"You don't exactly look like a tourist, Boss, at least not with that briefcase." Nathan hopped onto the dock and grinned as he shook Corban's hand. "I got your message. You sure I'm ready?"
"Ready or not, God's people need you." Corban crossed his legs and sat down, the briefcase on his lap. "How's the leg?"
Casually, Nathan studied the shoreline. A man with a dog. A woman jogging while pushing a stroller. A highway with little traffic beyond the parking lot where three vehicles were parked. Finally confident that they were not being watched, and certainly not being listened to, Nathan sat down as well, his left leg extended, a metal brace over his jeans.
"I'll wear this thing for the rest of my life, but it's a healthy reminder of how the Lord kept me alive in Germany."
"I like your attitude, Nathan. Always have. Any problems to share? Spiritual or otherwise?"
Corban opened the briefcase and arranged his files, then looked at Nathan in the eyes. "Spending six months with Luigi is good for training, but how's your faith? Luigi isn't exactly a beacon of Christ's light."
"No, he isn't, but I like to think I rubbed off on him a little." They both chuckled, knowing well the stubborn Italian's view of Christians. "I'm good. A little lonely, I guess."
"Yeah, I understand. When God talks about counting the cost, serving alone is certainly part of that price, Nathan, and it won't get any easier." Corban opened a file. "This is a pretty rough mission for your first undercover. You've been an exemplary soldier, but you've been learning that espionage is a different game. Now it's all about being wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove—without the nonlethal weapons you were used to using. It takes more faith and less muscle, I'd say, though there's a place for muscle too.
"One year ago, I sent this woman to infiltrate an ocean explorer group." Corban passed Nathan a photo of a brown-eyed Chinese woman in her thirties. "Two months ago, she stopped making weekly reports. She's going by the name of Chen Li."
"Does she have a personal transmitter or a beacon of any sort on her?"
"She had one, but we've received nothing for weeks. Maybe she had to disable it if the company she's around began to suspect her." He gave Nathan a printout. "A freelance COIL team broke into a Hong Kong-based company called Materia International three nights ago. It's the group she joined for a six-month recon since they have communist ties in Europe and they've been publishing hostile propaganda against Christians. These are not nice people, and with all the instigation that arose from the IRO that Team Jaguar uncovered in Croatia, we can't be too careful."
"I read the reports you sent me. According to this data, Chen Li is a tropical ecologist currently on board the Materia, an explorer vessel."
"That's right. We think she's still alive, but that's for you to discover. If she's alive, I want you to bring her safely home."
"What's her COIL file say? Is she experienced?"
"Not so much, though she was trained well." Corban sighed as if a heavy weight was on his shoulders. "If you're asking if she could have changed sides, I can't answer that. All of our agents are tested to various degrees, as you know. Sending you in without more information is part of the danger. This is a secret group, Nathan. The few reports Chen Li did make before she went dark suggested they had guns aboard, and there was some rumor about taking over a settlement of Christians, but she hadn't confirmed anything specifically."
"Her silence may mean she's been exposed, Boss, in which case—"
"If she's still alive, get her out." Corban's firmness made Nathan remember how much Corban cared for each and every COIL operative he managed—over one hundred acting as teams or individual field agents. "This was supposed to be a basic in and out operation, maybe an evidence-gathering mission, before we contacted the authorities. You know better than anyone how the most basic circumstances can escalate."
Corban took the photograph and printout back and closed his briefcase. Nathan looked down at his own hands. He'd known peace and war, but more often war. Whatever burden God asked him to carry now, he knew God would give him the strength to endure it.
"Just tell me what to do." He felt a chill of excitement crawl over his skin. "To tell you the truth, I'm tired of running mole exercises with Luigi. I need to get back in the field."
"You're still a Marine at heart." Corban smiled. "You can't help it, can you?"
Nathan shrugged and grinned, then became thoughtful a few seconds later.
"How're the boys?"
"Scooter's on a new team operating mostly in Colombia nowadays. Bruno's been in Africa."
Rising to their feet, Nathan felt a little unsettled that Corban hadn't given him more details about his old COIL teammates. Perhaps it was for the best since they all thought he'd died in Berlin the previous year anyway.
"Glad to see you're getting used to life without your mustache, Nathan. It was one of your most identifying characteristics."
"Who said I was getting used to it?" Nathan touched his upper lip. "Luigi kept threatening to tranquilize me and shave it off if I didn't do it myself!"
"How'd our mechanics do?" Corban stepped past Nathan and onto the port side pontoon of the plane to look into the cockpit.
"Well, she flew up from Gladstone without incident, but if you're referring to the reinforced fuselage and the airbag, I have to tell you that's got me puzzled." Nathan tapped his foot against the pontoon as he waited for Corban to respond, but the aged spy continued to admire the cockpit. "Okay, Boss, I get it that she's built for a potential crash, but how does that get me close to these Materia people?"
"You've got it halfway figured out already." Corban moved back onto the dock. "You're a bank robber. There's a gadget in the engine that'll start to smoke on cue. You crash within sight of the vessel known as the Materia. They'll pick you up."
"Just like that."
"A brazen robbery will be reported tomorrow morning, and a plane theft an hour later. The rest is up to you. Make an impression and become part of the crew."
"You've been busy, Boss."
"Just survive the plane crash, will you? You're not exactly replaceable, Nathan."
"I'll do my best." Nathan smiled.
"And get Chen Li out alive."
Nathan's smile faded. His reunion with Corban Dowler, founder of the Commission of International Laborers, was over. God's people were in danger. It was time to get to work.
"I'll do everything I can, Boss."
"I know you will. Come up to the car. I've got the cash in a couple duffel bags."
"Cash?" Nathan followed Corban up the dock. "What cash exactly?"
"You're a bank robber, Nathan. I have half a million Aussie dollars in the trunk." Corban stopped and turned to Nathan. "Unless you'd rather be a bank robber with no props to show off to those on the Materia..."
"Half a million, you say?" Nathan swept his hand before Corban. "By all means, I'd rather be a successful bank robber than a failed one. Lead the way."
#######
At an altitude of two thousand feet, Nathan flew the floatplane toward the coordinates Corban had given him—near the 147-degree longitude, just east of the Reef, deep in the Coral Sea. As soon as the Materia explorer vessel came into sight, Nathan used his heel to kick a lever into the downward position, which triggered the recently installed engine mechanisms.
The plane's engine sputtered and the controls began to shake, but the plane reacted when he flew it in a broad arc around the obviously anchored Materia. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a trail of black smoke against the blue January sky. When it came to boarding the Materia as intended, a long list of problems now faced Nathan. But it all relied on him living through the crash first.
He checked his speed and descended in altitude. The surface of the water looked calm enough—for the ocean—but he thought of all the other things that needed to go right as well. For one, the plane had to sink so it couldn't be inspected and her alterations discovered. This put further pressure on Nathan to perform some sort of contr
olled crash—a stunt he'd never practiced, let alone attempted!
The crew was on the explorer vessel deck now. He had their attention. The engine continued to cough loudly, and Nathan eased her speed even more. The pontoons caught an ocean wave and the plane bounced back into the sky. Still too much speed. After decreasing a little more, he tested his seatbelt harness and steadied his breathing. The plane glided over the surface.
"This is gonna hurt," he mumbled, then pushed the controls forward.
The plane dove the last yard into the sea. The nose caught and immediately flipped the plane over on its top. The airbag deployed and slammed into Nathan's face with such a punch to his nose that he knew it broke on impact. The seatbelt held against his collarbone as he hung upside down. Though dazed, he shook his head and acknowledged the water flowing into the cabin through holes in the fuselage put there for the express purpose of sinking her.
Nathan released the seatbelt and fell onto the ceiling. He splashed around in the rapidly increasing water for the two bags of money strapped in the copilot seat. Without the money, his bank robber story carried no weight. Holding his breath, he fit through the cockpit door and dragged the money with him—the bags becoming more waterlogged by the second. But Nathan had already looked inside the bags at the bundles of money. They would remain buoyant for a while before they sunk like wet rags.
On the surface, he gasped and splashed wildly for effect, if anyone was watching with binoculars. His leg brace had once been cumbersome, but not any more problematic to tread water than the jeans he still wore. As he climbed halfway on top of the moneybags, he watched the tail section of the plane slip below the waves.
The Materia was a half-mile away, but even at that distance, she seemed to be a large vessel, like an oversized tugboat, or a battleship without guns. A blue and white helicopter sat on a helipad near the stern, and above the control tower, a cluster of modern communication equipment clung to its tall antenna. Off the stern, the Materia's most recognizable feature was a massive A-frame crane, which Nathan knew from the printouts to be for lifting explorer submersibles in and out of the water.
An inflatable motorboat hydroplaned across the water toward Nathan. He waved one arm frantically, but in his heart, he prayed for safety from evil, not the elements. Helping God's people was Nathan's calling to serve God. When wickedness seemed to prevail, God chose to use His ambassadors to prove otherwise. Darkness would seem to win occasionally, Nathan accepted, but still the safest place to be was doing God's will.
The light outboard cut its engine and drifted up to Nathan. Two men reached for him as one more steered the boat. Instead, Nathan offered the straps of his bags to his rescuers—as he figured a bank robber would do having already supposedly risked his life stealing the money. It took both men to drag each bag into the boat, then it was Nathan's turn. Though he was in the best shape of his life at thirty-two, he collapsed and gasped on the bottom of the tender as if he'd been in the water for hours.
"My plane..." He rolled over and looked over the edge of the boat. "My plane!"
"Your plane's gone, pal." One man scoffed and signaled the pilot. "You're lucky to be alive."
The man had an American accent rather than Australian. Nathan had been studious as a soldier for such details, but since being trained by Italian superspy Luigi Putelli, Nathan's senses were on extra alert—except for his olfactory sense with his nose now swollen and bleeding from both nostrils.
The outboard started up and the boat bounced back to the Materia. They approached the starboard side where an access door sat ajar in the hull, only a few feet above the surface. Above, a davit arm hung where two men operated the controls of the winch system. Others from the access door reached down as Nathan extended his arms to them. They hauled him into the ship's dive locker room where men and women gave him space after setting him on a bench.
Nathan panted and held up a hand as if he was still catching his breath. He asked God for cautious wisdom. Now that he was in the lion's den, he was all alone, though he knew God's grace was not absent.
"You guys...saved my life!" He put his hand on his chest for effect. "Thank you so much! Where are my bags?"
Instead of responding, the half-dozen people parted to allow a dark-haired man through. Nathan started to rise on supposedly shaky legs.
"No, don't stand." The newcomer had a European accent. "You're a little far out to sea for a plane like that. There's not a vessel or island around for kilometers."
"I guess...I got turned around." Nathan looked out the open access door. "Where are my bags?"
"My men will see to them. Look at me." The commanding man crossed his arms as Nathan pretended to have trouble focusing. "Where did you take off from?"
"Um." Nathan glanced from face to face. Someone handed him a rag for his nose. "Townsville."
"You're a long way from Townsville. Where were you heading?"
"I guess...Lizard Island."
"You're an American?"
"Uh, yeah." Nathan grinned. He knew he was being tested. "Is that a problem?"
"What's your name?"
"Patrick. Patrick Gibson."
The commander looked at a broad-shouldered, stocky fellow against the wall and nodded at him. The stocky man left the room. Nathan knew, after so many missions with COIL, that his false identity would hold up under their scrutiny.
"Patrick Gibson, you are aboard the Materia, of Materia International, an underwater exploration team currently mapping the sea-side of the Great Barrier Reef. I am Trevor Niles."
Two of the men who had rescued Nathan from the water entered the room with the two bags of money, and one of them whispered in Trevor Niles' ear.
"Everyone out!" Niles ordered, but the two rescuers remained as the six others exited. A watertight door closed with a clang.
"Patrick Gibson, if that is your name, you have some explaining to do." Niles reached down and unzipped both bags, exposing the soaked bundles of money. "Do you want to tell me about this?"
Nathan opened his mouth, then closed it and looked down at the floor.
"It's probably better that I say nothing."
"We heard some news from the coast a few hours ago. A bank was robbed. Five hundred thousand was stolen. These two duffel bags look to be about that amount. What do you have to say to that?"
"Speak up!" one of his goons, a younger man, shouted and slapped Nathan on the side of his wet head. Nathan took the abuse, but he knew if he was to become a part of the crew, he would have to project himself in such a way as to gain respect from a crowd that respected only their own kind.
"Mr. Niles asked you a question!" the young goon yelled.
"I'm sorry. I don't think I should say anything. I want to see a lawyer."
"A lawyer?"
The goons laughed together, and Nathan knew if he didn't make his move soon, the sharks would think he was bait, and they'd tear him apart. In years past, Nathan had represented Christ as a soldier armed with non-lethal weaponry. But now, as an undercover operative, there was a line he needed to cross—a dotted line perhaps—to make a point and to gain access to what he had been sent to uncover—the life or body of Chen Li.
When the young rescuer lifted his hand to slap Nathan again, Nathan was ready. He caught the man's wrist and stood from the bench. The crewmember was caught off-guard and flinched away as Nathan twisted his arm and shoved him into the second goon.
Reaching behind his back, Niles drew a semiautomatic handgun from a holster that Nathan had already glimpsed. Raising his good leg, Nathan kicked the gun to the floor.
The goons recovered, and one charged for a tackle, his arms held wide. Nathan dropped a heavy elbow to the side of the man's head and he dropped to the floor. But the second goon now held a six-inch blade, drawn from his boot, the point aimed at Nathan's belly.
"You got me." Nathan seemed to concede. He raised his arms out wide instead of up, and stepped toward the knife. But suddenly his arms swept forward and clasped the man's
wrist with both hands, then kicked him in the abdomen. The man went down, and Nathan shoved Niles into the wall as the commander reached for his scattered gun. Without hurry, Nathan picked up the gun and aimed it at the disheveled men. He would never kill them, and he abhorred violence, but in this case, it was a means to an end.
"Look, I just want a ride to Lizard Island. That's all. A helicopter ride. I don't want any trouble."
Niles stood slowly and straightened his collared shirt. With his fingers, he combed his wavy hair. The other two held various body parts and remained in the background, scowling.
"And what do you think Lizard Island will do for you?" Niles asked. "You're a hunted man. The news said you put a bank manager in the hospital. After what you just did here, I believe it. You're a man who knows how to cause injury. There isn't a safe place for you within ten thousand kilometers, except right here on this boat."
Nathan frowned. His gun hand was steady.
"I'm not staying on this boat when I have a retirement to enjoy on some island."
"Patrick, you can't spend that money. Not yet. You need to lay low for a while. Look at me. What if you were actually among friends right now?"
"Zip up my money! Kick my bags over here!"
"No! Listen to me!" Niles held his palms wide and seemed remarkably calm, Nathan noticed, like a man familiar with both the criminal mind as well as getting his way with them. "You're no fool, Patrick. You successfully stole thousands of dollars. You just bested two of my best men. You obviously have skills few men alive can rival. Now, look around you. What do you see?"
"What do you mean?" Nathan snarled. "Just take me to Lizard Island!"
"Look at me, Patrick! What is that in your hand? Go ahead. Think this out. You're not among enemies. Come on, what do you have in your hand?"
"A…gun." Nathan was willing to play along.
"Exactly. I carry a gun in Australian waters. You must know Australia's gun laws. I'm just an explorer—but with a gun? Look, one of my men carries a boot knife. You probably served in the military, didn't you?"
DARK HEARTED (The COIL Series) Page 25